A Lizard's Rack
by JaneAire
Summary: Chapt. 12 is up! Thanks so much for the reviews! Sorry for the delay!
1. Chapter 1

"Gentlemen please, you're behaving like humans." tempered Tribune in his most soothing, most reassuring voice. "All the secrets of the powder shall be revealed, in time. You forget that it is only I who possesses such, pleasing attributes." His words came faster than normal, and yet uttered with the same suave tones. That is of course because he was in a situation a tad more unique than usual; some, thirty angry members of the aristocracy and their entourages of guards and military men surrounded him in the central square of the Empire.

You will tell or you will die.' simply stated the leading member of the party.

'All in due time, science has its own rewards' hissed the troubled lizard.

The crown surged in uproar and readied hands wielded sturdy rocks in determination of punishment. Then just as suddenly, the crowd parted to reveal a large leather-clad brute from within the ranks of the hired personnel who held up a meaty hand, complete with a matching club, and hastily recanted the list of fouled deeds perpetrated by Tribune himself. He repeatedly looked over at Tribune, with a half-smile of vengeance as he condemned his comrade and leader. "How can we rely on him? He traded secrets with our enemies and stole the bread off our plates. We want an execution." With this said the beast retreated into the crown, fully pleased with the retribution he had attained.

The leader paused for a moment and then related his decision to his posse.

"You are right, my legion. He is not to be trusted. Nevertheless, we must learn the secret of the powder, so we will go right to the source, from of the inventors themselves. We will be back in a fortnight, to celebrate our victory." He then turned aside to his council and in hushed tones related, "We need an edge in battle, no Lizard or Man can withstand torture."

In the utmost of secrecy Tribune, a dedicated soldier for the Empire was up against the most brutal of tactics, yet of course, none was needed. Tribune, loyal to him above all else, ousted the explorers within the first moments of argument. He was threatened with the Rack, a brutal device intended to stretch the body to its limits and ultimately beyond. The original design was intensified to meet the high empirical standards by adding a deep well of water, the combination of stretching and drowning was found especially convincing.

It was a day like most others, high above the ground floor, and yet there was many a chore to be done. Veronica had insisted that the tree house undergo a strict cleaning regiment, due to weeks of rain and the pent up emotions that accompanied it. However, two of the tree dwellers had escaped the furry of cleaning, under the much-heeded guise of a hunting escapade. Roxton and Marguerite, who had barely evaded dust duty, were rounding the small garden when a rather unseemly guest intruded upon them. It was namely George Challenger; the overcharged scientist looked eagerly about the two and quickly spurted out his plea.

"I have in this vial here the last of our hemlock, Roxton, see if you can bring back some. I should be able to double the photo process of development from a synthesized version of the chemicals in use. But only if I get a fresh batch." His red hair and slightly grey-red beard shook with the delight in the future success he should attain at such a feat.

The hunter looked at the twig, then squinted his eyes to ensure a better look, then sighed and related his findings. "You'd better come along, old boy. You'd know it far better than I." He then looked to Marguerite in a silent apology, and readied for their trek.

A short time later, with the tasks completed and a long walk home ahead of them, the wayward explorers chose a campsite for the night. Roxton had been eerily quiet and even with a sizable meal, and a safe journey seemed less than jovial. After Challenger had bunked down, and the fire stoked, Marguerite went to appease her hunter on watch.

Penny for your thoughts?

Hardly worth that

Something's the matter' it wasn't a question, just a statement said aloud for all to hear

I had this feeling before William. It's come again.

Both pairs of eyes shined bright in the moonlight, a mix of unshed tears and emotions.

Marguerite took a silent deep breath, looked away from her hunter, and readied herself for what came next.

"Before they came for Adrienne, I felt it. Before," Marguerite's voice lowered and she looked at Roxton intently. 'Osric' she immediately looked at the ground, then slowly over to the eyes set before her. 'It's freewill fighting destiny, John. It's change.'

With her peace said, and her quota for information fulfilled, she sighed relief and met the stare with wide knowing eyes.

Somewhere in the mix of information, his hand had found hers. Somehow, they managed to become thus entwined however superficially.

A 'thank you' uttered and a kiss to the forehead bestowed, as the two remained content in this new element of bond.

At the campsite, their blankets suitably apart, and yet apparently close, the hunter assumed his watch. When on camping trips Roxton never allowed others to risk guard duty in the most dangerous of times, and this trip would be no exception. However, his mind never flickered from the present situation of Marguerite. Unbeknownst to Challenger, Marguerite and Roxton shared their blankets during solo excursions; this night would be no exception. Subconsciously, Marguerite would lean back into Roxton, and he in turn would lead forward, his arm forming a suitable pillow, his chest a bed warmer. In the morning, Roxton's blanket, instead of looping around him would be under him and over Marguerite. His warmth was to come solely from the safety of his charge.

Eventually they stopped trying to stop it and gave in to the overwhelming feeling of comfort, of home. Roxton had warmed many beds, but this woman, whom he couldn't call his woman, was the exception. His soul wandered towards her, even when he did not.

He regained control of his thoughts, pushed his hat back on his head, and readied for the upcoming hours.

The next morning, long before Challenger succeeded in rising, Marguerite awoke rather encumbered by Roxton.

'Really John, this is ridiculous.' She quietly uttered as a wide grin flashed across his face. Roxton's arm, the one that functioned as a pillow, had snaked around her chest and effectively secured her to him. His other arm lay on her hip, a pistol in its hand, and dared any visitors.

Terribly sorry, Marguerite. Don't know what came over me.' Roxton replied while making no movements to alleviate the situation.

Kindly remove your hand, Lord Roxton.' Roxton lingered there, for an impolite moment before reluctantly shifting his hand to her stomach and began fingering a button.

Marguerite took in a sharp breath before placing her hand atop his, and shifting her position so they were facing each other. She pressed herself lightly against him, and stared into his eyes.

We haven't been alone in a while' it wasn't a question, just a statement said aloud for all to hear.

Hmmm' was all Marguerite could utter as Roxton put an arm about her head and pressed his lips to her forehead. Then his hand slid down to her backside, his lips found hers. They attacked each other, as they always did, with urgent hungry kisses and yet so full of tenderness. Their lips matching perfectly, their souls combined. When together as such, they found that the world had stopped, their problems ceased; they lived solely for themselves. Their hands slowed and they knew they had to stop, while they still could. Roxton shifted his blanket away, and ultimately himself. Both noticed a definite chill when without the others presence. It was still hours before the scientist would wake; however, neither the hunter nor the heiress would deem sleep worthy.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Challenger awoke, the coffee was on the brew and Marguerite had fallen back asleep. Having never known about their late night conversations or activities the rest of the group judged her as slovenly or lazy, her hunter just needed less sleep than she did, and no one was the wiser.

With the coffee finished and the camp broken, the wayward explorers were homeward bound. Roxton took point with Marguerite flanked by Challenger in the rear. Every step was heard as they crumpled the fallen leaves, a benefit and a detriment to the group. When Challenger stopped the group to bend down to examine a particular plant, Roxton gravitated towards his heiress.

Sleep well?'

As well as one could hope. I really could use an actual bed this time.' She mocked distain while looking at the perplexed scientist. 'That's if Challenger can tear himself away from the foliage.'

'Well, I find the scenery quite intriguing.'

" Oh, you do." She quietly uttered as he leaned down instinctively to adjust to her small frame. His arm had braced himself on the nook of a tree, his stance purely hunter. She stretched an arm to fiddle with his hair, replace his hat, and reluctantly scratch his face. "Going feral Roxton? " She smiled as she gently mocked him.

"What can I say? You bring out the beast within."

She chuckled and took a quick look around, then stretched to place a kiss on his stubble. He scratched her somewhat, but she didn't mind. His arm had snaked around and balanced her. With Challenger nicely distracted the couple got to spend some much needed time alone. Her hands were conveniently placed on his chest, and he held her there, not willing to let go. They lost all senses and only noticed each other.

With the explorers otherwise engaged, a group of savagely dressed Lizard-men began their approach. They were herded by their leader, a rugged man obviously a fighter or a warrior of some sort, who was begrudgingly dressed in formal empirical standards. He constantly tugged at his attire, and had brutally ripped the ridiculous purple cape from his ensemble. He wore the traditional colours, mostly consisting of a dark purple or blue and deadly black. Although he was a legion of the empire, he never longed to follow the rules. His followers had been taken from the mines, these work horses were his allies yet he didn't trust a single one. They crept into the makeshift camp, flanking the explorers in a semi-circle of disaster. Using a complex series of hand motions he directed his men to approach the group.

Quietly, so as not to disturb the peace of the surrounding jungle, the leader advanced on Challenger the closest prey. One minute Challenger was mumbling something about the specific properties of the plant, and something about a Summerlea, and the next he was out cold being dragged to an unknown location. With the oldest out of the way the horde could focus on the most deadly of the group. All six men approached the seasoned hunter who was entangled with a slight female.

Upon hearing footsteps, Marguerite stiffened instinctively. Her hunter noticed and casually slid his arm down her, seemingly in a caress and promptly located her pistol. He then slightly turned them, to block her from harm. All this was done under the guise of a romantic nuzzle. When the footsteps neared Roxton was in complete control, his lady secured under his protection. His face had mutated into the fierce hunter that dictated his movements from then on. Then he forcefully swung his arm about to meet the impending force.

Show yourselves, and I might not shoot you. ' He shouted loud and emphasized his meaning with a blast of gunfire.

What did you think? Am i going the right way? am I on crack?.. Should I end it all with a giant blast where no one survives.. hm probably not..


	3. Chapter 3

_HI again!_ Apparently im in a writing frenzy and yes i am working on my other fic... just wait! Here we go!

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_Show yourselves, and I might not shoot you. 'He shouted loud and emphasized his meaning with a blast of gunfire._

Marguerite watched as the group frantically hit the floor, seemingly in a sloppy bow. One blatantly trembled as he looked up, retreating from his position on the jungle floor. Marguerite instinctively let out a small sound as she looked at his features. The man, if that's what you could call him, was bedraggled but clearly a Lizard-man. He trembled slightly once more before he meekly approached the couple. "Mi-Lord.' to which he emphasized with another bow. "We beseech you with compliance with High Emperor Tribune; your services are sadly needed once more. "

Roxton glanced at his companion, raised an eyebrow and before he could speak was interrupted by Marguerite. "We currently have other plans." Her simple statement spoke volumes.

From the six men on the floor one, from his cleanliness and costume he was the natural leader, got up and looked at the explorers. "_You_ are needed. You _will_ come. There is no other option."

He's delusional, Roxton let's go home. "Marguerite looked at Roxton whose gaze was fixed on the metal weapon the encroaching party had in surplus. Marguerite's eyes opened wide as she gazed down the barrel of a riffle.

You will come." The leader shot them menacing looks as he cocked the barrel, and without warning shot Roxton.

"Roxton!" Marguerite cried out as her hunter dropped to the floor. She dropped beside him, her skirt covering where his hand dropped the pistol. The bullet had struck his lower left leg and left him in agony.

'Run. Marguerite you listen to me. Run. "All of this he said in between frantic gulps for air. His faced had taken on a ghastly pose. His murmured pleas fell on deaf ears.

"I will not leave you.' That was all she said before she looked at their current guests. "We will not be joining you to the Lizard-City, or any outpost thereof.' While keeping their attention with her haughty opinion her hand was covertly grappling within the regions of her skirt. 'Inform his Highness that we are unable to help him in his time of need.' When she had completed her task she quickly cocked her own pistol and shot the leader. The hand that had held the riffle had been blown completely off. The rifle was lost amidst the roughage of bodily tissues. The rest of his body was covered in a mass of green sludge and power burns. The smell was enough to kill. She fired two more shots into the air, and then aimed her gun squarely at his chest. From the corner of her eye she saw Challenger's unconscious form and shot the man a second time. "We will be leaving." The crowd dispersed enough to allow them to move.

The hunter's instincts were in disarray due to agony he felt from within. His leg was bloodied and the searing pain was all too distracting. The steady breathing of his Marguerite lulled him into unconsciousness.

* * *

Roxton's eyes flickered momentarily before he fully regained consciousness. His first thoughts were of Marguerite and his soul irked when he saw her. Her clothes were removed and she was given a plain brown dress that came down to her ankles. Her hands were bound with heavy metal shackles, her feet the same. She let out a small sigh when she saw that Roxton and Challenger were roughly in the same boat. They had all been scrubbed down, hastily cleansed and yet thrown into an adversely hygienic cell. To his relief they seemed to have fixed the searing pain in his leg, and wrapped the wound in clean white linen. They stood, chained as they were, in a small concrete round room with no window.

Marguerite lifted her eyes to meet the man who was accessing her condition. She raised an eyebrow, and with that subtle gesture their silent conversation had started. _I can take care of myself_ was said by way of crossed arms. A brief nod was acknowledgement of her skills. A smile from both assured their combined physical welfare. She raised her eyebrow in turn and flickered her eyes towards his injury. He said _it's not that bad _with a rather persistent grunt accented by another brief nod. She rolled her eyes and huffed indignantly but then caught the alarm in his eyes.

I dressed myself, John.' She said with a smirk. 'It seems brown is very much in style for captives.'

'Is he still out?' Roxton gestured towards the unconscious scientist who lay in a huddled mass on the floor. Marguerite answered with a nod and a solemn look.

'I don't envy him waking up. Wondering how we got here?'

'Well, yes actually. How _did_ you manage this lovely situation?'

'It was either this or drag you both through the jungle and get eaten by a raptor. Which would you rather?'

Roxton knew that there was more information, but if it was important she would have told. So the hunter's head lowered his gaze to the floor. 'You should have left us.'

Marguerite's eyes widened, her mouth tightened, he knew her answer. But before she could reply the door was opened, flooding the whole room in blindingly bright light. A man, the leader of the posy of whom Marguerite distinctively remembered, threw the last captive into the cell. She was shocked to see him use both his hands as he harshly attached the chains and retreated from the room. He then loudly shut the door and locked it securely.

The hunter accessed the rather bulky package on the floor. They all wore the same garments, yet this man was clearly a lizard.

"Well I hope your staying for tea" Marguerite uttered while trying to lighten the mood.

The lizard looked up at her comment and hissed through his giant fang-like teeth.

"It seems _dear Marguerite_, that I have lost favour with the council." Tribune gave Marguerite a leering look before soundly passing out.

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Oh! Why would they want gunpower if they have GUNS?! How did that guy grow back his arm!? ( that was a fact talked about in the episodes but never explored i mean come on!!) Theres more to come, but you'll have to wait!.. i know i know! ha! All of that is for me to know and for you to.. well wait!! hope you enjoyed.


	4. Chapter 4

With Tribune unconsciously slumped in his segment of the room, the explorers were left anxious for information. Roxton's eyes bulged as the dark room once again filled with the blinding light. A man entered, eyed the captives and resigned for the easiest target, Marguerite. Instinctively Roxton protested but was shut down due to a rather fierce strike by a club. The man undid her ties and grabbed her soundly. Marguerite locked eyes with her hunter and relayed her only sentiment. _"I'll not leave you for the hangman"_ she uttered quietly while being escorted out of the dimly-lit cell.

The hunter strained to hear any and every sound made, struggled to catch a glimpse of his lady through the small slit in the door. He never gave up until a second guard came in and tended to his wounds. He might have tried to escape if a third guard wasn't at the door, soundly keeping watch over the unruly prisoners.

It seemed hours later that the guards left, that Roxton heard the first firm sounds from the corridor. A small splashing sound immediately followed by a repeated mechanical noise of some sort. He hoped in vain they were doing laundry, or giving her a bath. Several rounds of noises later, his lungs breathed again as his Marguerite was returned. She was firm as ever, her hair was bound in a handkerchief, amazingly enough she seemed freshly bathed, and in good health.

Once she was rebound he caught her eye. A raised eyebrow followed by a retort of a half-smile. Her eyes flickered to his wound, he smiled brightly. His eyes flickered to her hair, she smiled brightly. She retained contact, yet made a small hand gesture indicating a gun. He raised both his hands palm-up to indicate his lack of knowledge. He placed his large hands on his stomach and eyed her. She nodded once, indicating that she too was hungry. He eyed Tribune, and she raised a cautious eyebrow. _They don't need gunpowder. They want something else, John. _His eyes drew close and he opened his mouth slightly. _What do they want, Marguerite?_ With this her eyes shut. She scoffed slightly and eyed the floor with deadly determination. This she could handle alone. This she would handle alone. She would protect her hunter with the only skills she had, herself. She levelled her eyes to his; he could see nothing in them, just the way she wanted. _I've got no ideas. _ He drew a beady look at her and resigned knowing that she would not open up in this situation. When the guard came in with a meal the silent conversation had ended and they were left in silence. A little while later a guard entered and placed a watery substance in two bowls on the floor, he unbound the woman and provoked her to tend to the unconscious heathens. He rebound her to a separate stake in the wall which consisted of a metal ring in which she could move freely but never escape. He finished his work and let the prisoners be.

Marguerite felt a slight tremble when she used her weary limbs, but wouldn't let it show. She confidently got up, made some quip about freedom and made her way to Challenger. Roxton watched attentively as she gingerly lifted the old scientists head and encouraged him to drink. She murmured soft sounds as he aroused just enough for nourishment. He passed out once more and she let him. She replaced the emptied bowl and manoeuvred to the lizard-man. She lifted up his head and soundly smacked him. He snapped to attention and howled at the woman. She was smart enough to move just out of his reach.

What do they want with us Tribune?

What do any of us want with you, my dear?

This resulted in another hard slap, and a stern look.

I'm a tad out of the social circuits, apparently they found another leader.

She then took pity on the tired beast and offered him the meal. When they had finished she smacked him hard once more and sent him back to unconsciousness.

Roxton watched in sheer amazement as his lady expertly interrogated the lizard and then regained her composure. She got up and sauntered his way.

She led her shackles along the ring until she was in front of her favourite hunter. _As long as I'm free, I might as well be here. _She carefully sat beside him, just enough for comfort. He placed his arms around her and she fell asleep.

They both awoke to being alone, the feeling of each other gone, being separately chained once more. They both longed for the closeness to return.

Roxton eyed his companion's state and the door opened and the blinding light returned. She was hauled out of the room and left him entranced in fear and doubt. He feared what she wasn't saying, her underlying pain as she shifted in sleep, her speech too tight, and her quips were coming too quickly. She had worn her hard mask, the one that separated her in the first months on the plateau. Her behaviour frightened him deeply. He would find a solution when she returned.

It would be hours more before his suspicions were confirmed. She was returned, her hair bound once more, and she looked weary. When the brute shackled her once more to the wall she involuntarily let a shrill cry out. Her eyes closed, and her mask was donned once more. She smiled brightly, suggesting he pinched her rather hardly. When she was finished her roaming and sat beside him he struggled against himself. Knowing any push would lead her farther from him, he dejected to giving her the warmth she craved so deeply. She sighed inwardly as she leaned into his embrace. He let her fall asleep and then as gentlemanly as possibly lifted her small shift to reveal a portion of her legs. He gasped quietly against the night as the bruises sparkled in the dim lights. He replaced her cloths as he lifted the portion covering her hair; it was damp to the touch. The hunter set his jaw, his mind devoid of any coherent thought as it always became when she was in pain. He would not find sleep this night, nor any other night until this situation was satisfied and she was recovering.


	5. Chapter 5

When the guard came to rearrange Marguerite's chains, the hunter was ready. His chin set, his stubborn nature in full swing. The guard entered the cell, spreading the flood of luminescent light. When the guard came in a close proximity Roxton pounced. He slammed his chains against the man's body and encased him in chains. He had to be as quiet as possible; he did not intend to alarm anyone, especially the hot tempered lady in front of him sleeping.

_What are they doing to her? _Roxton savagely uttered into the ear of his victim. _You will tell me, or you will die. _To this he emphasized by a brutal tug on the chains, effectively strangling him.

_You will be punished for this__ heathen. Your trial has been set, your death arranged. _ The guard nearly spat in the hunter's face while preparing for his own death. While pinning the guard neatly to him, Roxton reached around and secured a few of his belongings from him.

Just when Roxton was about to ask another question the room lit up again and a second guard came in rather surprised. He looked at the two, positioned as oddly as that and sighed. He then pointed his gunat Marguerite and looked to Roxton. The explorer had no other option but to relinquish his hold and surrender his captive. The guard bent down and dragged his comrade out of the room. Ten minutes later a second guard came in to beat Roxton senseless. The pain didn't bother John, for he couldn't feel anything but fear for the heiress.

Marguerite woke to a strange feeling in her stomach. She opened her eyes quickly and assessed the room. Her eyes immediately fell to her hunter, hunched over and grimacing. Their eyes met.

_Bad food __I suppose?_

_One could say that. _

_John..? _ She eyed him cautiously; Roxton was not a man who lied well. That Marguerite did for him and for him well. He would not venture into detail, but she would find the truth eventually.

The meal came and went, although the conversation never veered from pleasantries and mindless banter. Roxton was not amused by his lady's antics. His soul was in shards whenever she was threatened, it would always be this way and he wasn't about to change that.

The guard came into the room and readied the woman's chains. She was taken out and Roxton begun his plan. He moved slightly to the right, to reveal a small hole in the ground of the cell. He emptied the contents of which and sprawled them on the ground. There wasn't much in the guard's pockets, a dirty spoon, a handkerchief, and a metal flask. Roxton was hoping for a set of keys, but surely his luck wasn't that good. The hunter wrapped the handkerchief around the flask and threw it soundlessly against the wall nearest to him. It shattered beautifully and he was left with several deadly weapons. He used one to exit himself from his bondage. He then looked to his fallen comrades and silently vowed to return to them. But first he intended to free Marguerite from whatever happened outside of the door. Roxton got up on his aching legs and bent down to look through the small slit in the door. Assuring himself of solitude, he picked the largest shard and begun to work on the lock.

Ten minutes later he was through, and fully satisfied with himself. When he heard a splash he opened the door, the heavy mechanical sound silencing the door squeak. There he stood on the outside of his cell in a strangely lit corridor that smelled of chlorine and death. With the horrifying sounds leading his way he headed off in search of his mate. Roxton held his shard ready to pounce at the first intruder; there would be no sympathy on this outing. John had just passed the second door, presumably more cells, when the sounds became louder and more distinct. It might not be Marguerite but someone was in there, and he intended to help. Up ahead of the hunter there was a sharp turn in the hall which didn't allow him to see past it. Roxton ventured as close as he dared and then used his shard for a mirror. It worked effectively and the explorer saw one guard stationed just around his corner and four others securing a door. John backed up, readied his shank and then savagely threw his spoon into the corner. This peaked the guard's interest and he came like a mule to water. When he was in range Roxton slammed his fist into his head and rendered him unconscious. Luckily the guard was of the human variety, and not his lizard- like companions, because apparently humans all look alike. Roxton donned his disguise and walked through the flanked guards into the secure room without a word said, or a fuss made. He now distinctly heard the shrill mechanical cranking following the large splash sounds in great quality. He entered the room only to find that it was surrounded by thick black curtains and he could see nothing. Any movement of the curtains and the room's occupants would have knowledge of his arrival. So John made his way around the coverings trying to find an entrance or a peephole of some sort. He had made it half way around the mostly spherical room when the light became fiercer. He stayed in the shadows as much as possibly, but allowed himself to cut a very small hole in the fabric for a look-see. The small cell's dimmed lighting had shifted the hunter's normally agile eyesight and rendered him unable to process the happenings in the room. He grunted, adjusted his outfit and then casually walked into the inner circle in search of his Marguerite.

He remained in character, while taking in the situation. A large pool of water was in the center of the room, murky and grey with misuse. Against one wall was an intricate system of pulleys and levers which held up a large wooden tabletop shaped thing which currently was moving up carrying its passenger with it. There was a series of rooms attached to the wooden surface which seemed over taut with tension. Roxton made his way to the small corner filled with soft pillows and blankets, presumably a resting station. Since no guards objected, the explorer sat down and waited for the machine. One of the guards looked at his timepiece and then pulled down the lever. The wooden planks croaked and groaned but reluctantly shifted slowly out of the water. To Roxton's horror on the plank a person, dressed in captive's clothing had surfaced. It was tethered to the beast and pinned down by huge heavy chains. Roxton eyed the body, unable to see any physical characteristics from the sheer distance, and the thick burlap-like sac that encased the head of the victim. Roxton was unable to act due to the overwhelming population of lizard-men, guards, and even a few spectators surrounding the deep pool. One man stepped forward as the guard secured the plank topside. He had begun an interrogation and was the clear leader.

_Now, you know what we want._ The beast said in a sickly sweet voice, while his whole body emanated strength and brutality. He was dressed in empirical standards, of a slightly differed colour, a greyish blue. _You're going to die __anyway;__ you might want to clear your conscious. _The man said this as if he was ordering lunch at a fancy restaurant. Suave tones and niceties were clearly his way of asserting dominance.

_I am not privy to that kind of information. _It was the first reply Roxton could discern with the vast amount of interference in the room. He couldn't make out the voice, but the words were clear enough.

_Of course you are, you infiltrated like a disease, a plague upon your household. __At least one would trust you, and don't think we aren't aware of _that _situation. _

_I am not trusted with that kind of information. _ Roxton then realised the captive would answer but give no actual response. He feared the worst for his companion.

With the third round of questioning the man pulled a lever and tightened the restrains, effectively pulling the skin, arms, legs, and entire body of the victim. It must have been excruciating, a huge violent pain ripping through the body, feeling the tearing of every ligament and muscle. Yet the captive made no sound or movement. The body didn't twist, or pull; it gave no satisfaction to the pain-oriented mindset of the captors. The captive was then thrown back into the murky waters and back up in a matter of minutes. When it was airborne once more, Roxton made his way through the considerable crowd. He approached the leader and donned the character of an innocent lackey or knave.

_Sir..._He managed to stutter out. _You are needed in the chamber, __they... __they sent me for you__ please__ please they said to take guards... revolt__ my first day__i__ wasn't sure__ sorry__ Sir. _

The man grimaced at the new-hire but reluctantly followed suit. He ordered Roxton to stay along with a more senior member of the squad and rushed off along with the rest of the guards.

_Been here long? _The man made casual conversation while pulling the level to raise the plank.

_My first day__ m__ my wife... baby__ ne__nneedded money...__ food shortage__ sir. _

_I see. Well__ welcome__ let's see if we can get our bonuses huh? _ The senior guard had secured the victim topside and resume the interrogation. _What do you know?_

_Nothing. _

_They would have trusted you with that information, hunny. All we want is a little tidbit; you can help us with that right? A pretty thing like you should be enjoying your day, not here answering my questions. What do you say? Hmm?_

_Nothing. _

The man sighed loudly and then turned to check the pulleys. Roxton eyed the captive. The body was dripping wet, and blatantly female from the shape. The burlap sack still muffled the voice, and there were no other discernable trademarks with which to indentify. The guard snapped down a lever and the plank shifted noisily, shifting the burlap sack. A small tress of hair escaped from its prison and Roxton's eyes bulged. He turned to the other guard and slammed his shank into his temple soundlessly. The man collapsed dead within seconds.

Roxton slammed the corpse onto the ground and eyed the pulleys. He pulled incorrectly once, gained a small screech from the device, but then released the tension with a series of pulls. The woman dangled dangerously when not held securely and teetered towards the pool. Roxton miscalculated the distance and the bound woman fell freely into the murky depths. Instantaneously the hunter closed the distance and plunged into the water after the woman. His eyes adjusted momentarily to the grime clinging to his opened lids and located his charge quickly. He dove down the remaining feet and secured her under his arm. He pushed off the side walls and emerged from the freezing water. He sputtered for air and then realised the woman wasn't breathing. He flopped them both on the surface, untied her chains and then removed the burlap sack revealing the raven hair of his Marguerite.


	6. Chapter 6

Marguerite felt wet and so very cold as she shivered frantically on the hard cement-like floor. She felt Roxton cover her in what she would discover later to be a torn-off section of the draperies. She eyes remained closed and she revelled in the dream-like state presented before her. She was present but at the same time she was elsewhere, a feeling most unusual and regrettable. She felt Roxton's weight as he tried vainly to offer body heat, and heard his almost primal growling of her name. Anger... she felt his anger most of all. She knew he was blaming himself, really that's all the man seemed to do, and she would leave him to it for now. His hand rested at the crook of her neck, searching and finding her heartbeat and relaying it to his mind. A mind that would not rest as Marguerite's would in the upcoming hours. They lay like that for mere minutes though it seemed like hours. The sweet reunion would be cut short, as Roxton wrapped her in more fabric, making a seemingly large carpet roll out of her, and carried her out of the room. He bent down, with Marguerite in tow, and captured a hat from his fallen prey and placed it on her head. He carefully hid her bountiful hair underneath the hat, and her carpet, and acted as if he was taken a sick man to the infirmary. A tale that would hold up for the most part. Roxton carried her for the duration until they reached the cells and knowing the others needed saving devised a plan. Roxton opened another cell with a swift kick and after surveying it, placed her upon the floor and rushed off to retrieve the other members of the party.

Marguerite felt her hunter vanish, his presence denied her, but she was in another world. She would see large buildings, paved streets, buggies and cars erupted on the path in front of her. She was half astonished and half afraid. She longed for her rugged hunter with riffle in arms to lead her way. But she'd been alone before, and she'd be alone again. Nothing to worry about. She felt like she knew this world... and yet didn't in the same moment. It felt like England, but it had the same eerie solitude of the ghost ship's reality. It was distorted memories and ghastly apparitions. She walked with a dead pace, never wandering or faltering. She had learnt to do so in the past. _Look as if you're going somewhere and no one will bother you. _ A ghost from the past whispered. _Vagrants wander, you do not. _Lessons learnt from a hard past will never part. No amount of dinosaurs, ape men, or hunters in the wild will unlearn them. They were with her; they were her. Her clothes had changed from her usual exploring attire to a vastly subdued afternoon dress, complete with a hardened bodice and bonnet. She hadn't worn a bonnet since her early years, a pauper's bonnet. She'd never forget; no one ever does. Marguerite looked at the sky, trying to determine the time or location, and found that the sky was darkened so and yet no sun or moon. Clouds littered the heavens but light remained. A so very different world for Marguerite. She was walking by shops and houses, attempting to recognize or remember, and then vainly looked at her own appearance. Her hair was braided and bound most unfashionably, in a simple bun that coiled at the back of her head, and weighed quite heavily. This she definitely remembered, she remembered the mornings spent braiding her own hair, attempting to look stylish without the help of a servant thought trying to look like she had one. She remembered the hairpins stolen or purchased used that pinched her head, while the others wore fashionable combs in their hair or fancy silk flowers. She remembered training her hands with rope to weave her hair like a servant, and how that talent saved her from embarrassment time and time again. She had never lost that talent, trading the dark coils for a simple braid in the jungles. No one ever wondered how she attained such talents on the plateau, and she would never surrender such a daunting secret. She walked on, unpleased by her appearance but entertained by her new reality. She past a church and remembered a time within those walls so dark and gloomy. Remembering the scoldings she took, and the charity bowls she partook in return. One would put up with pain for bread. This she knew from the beginning. She remembered the forbidden sanctuaries, offered but never allowed. The nuns who shunned her way of life while mocking her circumstances. She walked on seeking the end of the road. She past rows of houses, businesses, and vendors. She saw no one, and no one saw her. This was the way her life was, a life before. Finally she came upon a rather dilapidated old house. She remembered it with fond memories. The one room shone with a warm brilliance, illuminated from the hearth. She remembered the heat, the utter intensity of it. A heat so cherished from months spent outdoors that the little fire was loved. She walked up the beaten path to the house adorned with a little patched roof and worn curtains. She thought nothing while she reached up and picked the heavy key out from under her bonnet and unlocked the door. She walked in while shutting the door and putting her parcel down. She turned up the fire and pulled the pins from her hat. She sat on her divan and waited for the inevitable.


	7. Chapter 7

Marguerite sat in an eerie alter-world as an eerie alter-world version of herself. She was dressed as a higher class pauper, which is to say the richer of the very poor. She half-remembered a time when she was so. It was backward and yet not. A knock at the door forced her back into this strange reality. She steadied herself on her cheap high heeled boots that were hidden within her patched petticoats. When she opened her door, Marguerite found that she was face to face with a vision from the past, and yet from the future. She was looking directly into the eyes of her hunter, yet aged so differently. This Roxton was youthful, spry, and the look of an unabashed lover. He sprang forward arms wide and took a hold of marguerite in a strong hug. Her mind jerked away but her body seemed to act on its own accord. She found herself leaning in, even squeezing back, while murmuring his name.

This other Roxton walked around her, and began taking bags out of closets and under her bed. Marguerite felt compelled to ask rebellious questions but her body helped pack and assemble the packages in front of the door. She peered out the window and eyed the massive coach where her goods would be stored. When they had all done this other Roxton handed his lady a large package and a small hat box.

'You wanted a good impression right? Now you'll be beautiful and have a nice dress." He added while she took the purple and ivory coloured dress out of the pink coloured package. It smelled of reality and felt like silk. Marguerite hoped so to remain in this dreamy landscape.

'I love it John. And I love you.' Inwardly Marguerite grimace over how she fondled the garment and gushed over her fiancé. She might love this Roxton fellow but she sure hated herself at that moment. The pessimist in her had apparently been replaced by a fawning bimbo. She realised that this somehow was an alternate future, or somehow the past, which her future had replaced. This whole ordeal had the inward Marguerite very confused while the outward Marguerite manhandled her Roxton. Before the door was opened and the carriage stuffed, the inward Marguerite was ripped from that pleasant torture.

She was replaced in her horrible reality, shivering and beyond tired. Her body bruised and her soul tortured beyond repair. She found herself wrapped in ridiculous amounts of carpet, her hair encapsulated in a weird hat, and her hunter missing. But if there was one thing Marguerite knew how to do was to keep surviving.


	8. Chapter 8

Roxton clambered through the halls like an ox in a china cabinet. Without his heiress he felt undone, he felt wrong, and oh so lonely. She was his home, he felt complete and whole with her near. Separation would not be tolerated. He was still dressed in lizard finery, having washed the abundant blood from his hands and clothing, he was nearly presentable. The look on his face was terrifying, one part savage revenge and another like the face of a heartbroken child. His mind would flicker back and forth between the reality of the moment, and his last vision of his Marguerite, lying cold, alone, and hurt. Nothing would stop him, nothing ever could. In mere minutes he was at the cell, having ruthlessly attacked and most likely maimed the sentries on post.

Roxton kicked in the door and surveyed his surroundings. Challenger was slumped in the corner, attempting to feed himself, and he was alone. Roxton bolted to where the lizard-man had formally lay and he found a stump of reptilian flesh.

'Well let's hope the arm grows back eh old boy.' Roxton scoffed at the cowardice of Tribune while unlocking Challenger.

Where's Marguerite, John?' the red-headed scientist questioned in a voice that was almost too low.

You'll see soon, we've got to get you out first.' The rugged hunter allowed his older comrade to walk on his own while he undressed the corpse in the hall.

'Here, best we can do for now.' Roxton said as he threw the bloodied garbs towards Challenger.

'Yes... well.' The Challenger looked perplexed as he eyed the several dark gashes in the fabric alone with the abundance of blood. He cocked an eyebrow ruefully at the experienced explorer and made a mental note to talk about it later.

When Challenger was in uniform, complete with hat, they rushed off to retrieve the elusive Miss. Krux.

Roxton led the way through the intricate series of tunnels and past the multitude of guards and lizard-men. The red-headed gent hobbled along as best as he could, having being chained to a wall for some time. The hunter however took no note of this, a pledge to hell and back was irrelevant when his Marguerite was in danger. They all knew this and accepted it, _science was Challenger's Marguerite_. It created a duality to their friendship, it created compromise.

When they had finally reached the cells Roxton flung open the door to reveal Marguerite, dry but still dressed in her captive's smock, hair braided, and sitting upright waiting for them. Her eyes dared him not to comment. She held out her hand and the hunter led her from the room. Once they entered the hall simultaneously Marguerite hopped up slightly while Roxton held out his arms. The heiress playing sick was all part of the ruse. When asked, the good lackey was taking a sick prisoner to the infirmary and was clearly not happy about it. Their mindsets were in perfect uniform, and they both knew it felt right. Their deception lasted until they hit the center court, where Roxton took down an additional sentry to supply the third outfit. The woman was guarding the central chamber that led from the court and was apparently a place of great prestige. The guard was decked out in a pale blue dress with black and purple lightweight armour.

'Lovely day to go shopping, Lord Roxton.' The heiress playfully teased while she undressed the woman and took on her persona. The men remained dutifully outside until their comrade had completed dressing.

Marguerite had dressed her hair as the woman, and assumingly like the rest of the female warriors, braided but twisted pinning it in tight coils at the nape of her neck. It was stylish and convenient, clearly to Marguerite's liking. When she exited the empty chamber the scientist blushed while the hunter fixed his eyes on his lady love. The dress, being a tad snug had clung to the Englishwoman in the most alluring way. The hunter was enthralled with her beauty. The armour clearly being more decorative was low cut and allowed for ample cleavage.

Marguerite locked eyes with her hunter and belayed this small fact. The smile of a schoolboy from John signalled his approval. An eyebrow raise and a slight smile from the dark-headed lady accepted the compliment. The two shared a smile and with dancing eyes made their way out of the lizard-city. Somewhere between the rugged cells and the decorative chambers, the explorers found their packs along with their clothing. They were forced to remain in the lizard-garb while retreating from the city much to the hunter's delight.

Three hours into their lengthy trek, with home awaiting and energies waning, they decided to make camp. The hunter had surveyed the area and finding it seemingly safe, set up a fire ring. While Challenger hunted for firewood, Marguerite rooted through their belongings frantically.

'Lost something Marguerite? Jewels perhaps?' the hunter peaked a question through the veil of unanswered questions. His voice full of merriment which hid the surly distaste he had for her 'profession'. John didn't approve of her unabashed greed and lust for money, but he accepted her. He knew that to live in the harsh world they left she needed them to survive. They were a livelihood, like Marguerite's very being was to John.

The heiress looked up, and when Roxton looked into her eyes he saw the heartbroken child she must have been. Her eyes were watering and her face had paled.

'My locket...' the heiress stammered and wouldn't meet the eyes of her hunter.

'All this for a silly bauble?' the hunter questioned loudly and without refrain.

A tear escaped from Marguerite's closed lids as she tried to remain in control of her emotions. The damn mask she had worked years to perfect was broken and shattered by one man. A man that could read her thoughts better than she could.

It's not a silly bauble, John.' The heiress countered angrily while balling her fists and trying to tame herself. It's all I have.' She finished so low the hunter strained to not miss it. He immediately regretted his rash decision and attempted to help her to find the priceless trinket. They would have no success and they regrettably ended the search when hunger called for dinner. A small rabbit was caught and cooked by the seasoned hunter, while the heiress and the scientist arranged blankets around the blazing fire.

Hours later, with the coffee rations drunk, the rabbit eaten and the red-headed explorer fast asleep, the two companions could finally be alone.

The heiress was bunked closest to the simmering fire, while the hunter's blanket was around the fire and the sleeping scientist. In one swift movement Marguerite extended her blanket and the hunter silently shifted to her. Roxton's arm formed a pillow for her head, and all at once a sense of calm and serenity washed over the wayward explorers. He made sure to add extra blankets around her aching frame, and hoped to hell she wasn't in much pain.

How are you?' The hunter snuggled deeper in to her flowing hair.

'Oh, just peachy.'

Did... are you hurt?'

Not that bad. Really Roxton, nothing to worry about' unknown to the hunter his Marguerite looked frantically around while her voice betrayed none of her worry or pain. She palmed her gun with one arm, while poking the hunter in the ribs lightly. She asked him to shoulder his riffle near silently and he after taking a look around amorously agreed. They two lay intertwined with full armoury in tow.

She shifted silently to face her hunter. She let out a small moan as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. It seemed to be a thank you, or even a loving token, but what was unseen by the landscape was the utterance of a name.

Shanghai Xan


	9. Chapter 9

In the twilight down in the very depth of the forest the two explorers trudged through the dangerous landscape. They left a small note under the sleeping form of Challenger and had covertly signalled the tree house as to his whereabouts. To keep them all safe, they needed to keep from them. With all the changing of the plateau any maps were dangerous to follow, to find the explorers one would literally have to stumble onto them, this was clearly beneficial for the seasoned pair.

The hunter did not like leaving their family, nor the cowardice of escaping, but he loved his Marguerite and at any cost would keep them together. They were traveling to nowhere and everywhere at once. Their supplies were few, but in survival mode they would out surpass numbers. For the most part he would lift her onto his shoulders due to her decreased strength. The searched for alternative housing far from the watchful eyes in the jungle.

Near daybreak the hunter came across a small inlet and a rushing waterfall. He begrudgingly let the heiress down and allowed her to walk freely.

Really Roxton, I'm fine.' The hunter gave her a choice expression and went about filling their canteens. After hours of travel the bubbling river seemed like a godsend to the disgruntled Marguerite. She carefully stripped of almost all of her clothing, tactfully leaving on camisole and short-cut bloomers. When she had fully submerged herself, the hunter stripped of his extra clothes and dove into the warm tropical waters. The two splashed like schoolchildren and watched the bevies of fish swirl around their ankles. They were swimming impossibly close to one another, letting the isolation get the better of them. For once Marguerite instinctively swam closer to her hunter, and didn't stiffen when he offered to steady her tiring limbs. The two shared blissful carefree moments while they could. When Roxton's hand wove into her hair, Marguerite leaned forward and kissed her hunter with a passion unsurpassed by time. They pressed together, feeling that any space between them was unforgivable, and treaded water for what seemed to be millennia.

When John broke the kiss, the two heaved mighty breaths as they looked into the early morning sky. They swam towards their makeshift shower and together felt the mighty beat of the nature. Then out of the corner of his eye the hunter spotted a crevice behind their waterfall, a small cave completely hidden from sight.

'Are you crazy? John, John put me down!" the heiress shrieked as Roxton picked her up soundly and made to climb the steep bluff. The hunter just grunted and kept one hand steadying Marguerite and the other on the rock. He found foot holds and hand holds enough to make the descent relatively easy. When he had firmly placed her within the small den, he dove back down to the warm waters. Marguerite waited for what seemed to be hours, impatiently annoyed that she was abandoned once more. In her life, abandonment went hand in hand with love. In actuality the hunter had been gone half an hour and he returned with the rest of their clothes, packs and a small rabbit for dinner. They had to wait until night to light the fire, so the smoke would mingle with the mist emanating off their watery companion. They arranged the blankets and fell into an impossibly deep satisfying sleep. His arm with a pistol at her hip subconsciously protecting her from unwanted visitors.


	10. Chapter 10

The hunter wasn't sure why they needed to leave their friends, home and makeshift life of theirs, but he did know that the terrified expression on his tortured Marguerite was a serious as death. He waited for her to tell him, he would wait for eternity so that she would be comfortable. Clearly pressing the heiress was not the way to extract information, the woman was a veritable vault of information kept hidden from all walks of life. She had gone through torture for reasons unknown to Roxton, but surely they were good ones.

They sat side by side, hand in hand, and watched the glistening waterfall protect their little abode. It was night now so their little inlet cave was heated by a small fire in the recesses of the stone. The rabbit was simmering nicely and the two explorers were in a safe haven of bliss.

You think they're worried?' the heiress poised a question to the open air

'Of course'

But you don't think they'll mount a rescue expedition?'

Not with the note you left Challenger'

You wrote the note, John.

Mmm... yes.' The hunter's eyes twinkled and betrayed his merriment.

And just what did you write?' Marguerite held a note of suspicion in her eyes and lifted her eyebrow at him, but the hunter remained quiet, he too could enjoy a secret.

She smirked at him, while picking at their meal of rabbit and dried fruit. They ate in bemused silence with one another staring into the illustrious fountain of protection. It was day two of their little journey into the deeper wilds of the South American plateau and other than escaping for their lives they were having a rather good time. The hunter had his Marguerite alone, and Marguerite was free to keep a secret or two, but not for much longer. While she was readying their bedclothes, which pretty much meant blankets and no jackets, the hunter spied a good look at his Marguerite.

When she gingerly took off her jacket he gasped at the mere extend of her bruises, the sheer physical, let alone emotional, toil it must be taking from her. Yet she was humming some random tune while preparing the bed. The hunter sauntered up to her and stopped her in mid-fluff.

'I didn't know it was this bad'

This... it barely even hurts John. Little sting is all' The heiress mumbled while staring blankly into the pelts which lined the rock floor.

'That would hurt worth the dickens Marguerite, why didn't you tell me?'

And just what would you have done, Lord Roxton?'

Well..' The hunter looked at her jaw set and was blank for words. Marguerite took his hand in hers and gave a half-smile.

'You got me out of there. We're both ok. Besides I've had far worse'

The last bit she said very quietly with a small start in her voice. The hunter's trained ears picked up every word and she knew it instantly. His eyebrow went up and eyes begged for information.

'All's fair in war, John.'

She ended the conversation with a small flick of her wrist that sent the leaves flying and their 'bed' was aptly made. That night, like all others, they spent in each other's arms. Roxton however, was in overprotection mode. Both hands held pistols, his body shielded her from the unknown beyond, and by morning she was pressed against the crevice's inner walls, with one of his arms pinning her down while holding a pistol, the other securing her head and his face (the riffle and one pistol) were facing the danger. She laughed at the sight, Roxton, Great White Hunter, learned Englishman; rugged adventurer was protecting her from a waterfall.

He woke to the delicious sound of her laughing, he dreamt of her bruises past and present and he felt her pain. They exchanged 'Good Morning' smiles and readied their supplies for the upcoming hours.

They needed extra rations and today had to be the excursion day. They also needed fresh meat and fruit to dry as well as dry fire wood. Today would be a day of chores. Before Roxton had seen her injuries the plan had been separate, and now there would be no question. They both knew it, he couldn't be without her sight. So together they trudged through the heavy undergrowth of the jungle, together they romped through the fruit groves, and together they shot a raptor.

They felt like two pack mules a piece while strapping the necessities into their packs and heading for their 'home'. It was a good two hour journey, having to double back several times, as well as refrain from their normal paths and fruit groves.

They were heading up a rather steep slope with Roxton in the lead and Marguerite jostling behind him. Then out of nowhere they hear shouting, and not good shouting at that.

In a taunting and deadly voice they hear the cool and collected voice that betrayed no nationality. He taunted Marguerite while Roxton grabbed her arm and ran like hell up the slope. They dropped supplies and rations left and right. They were running for their lives, Roxton was running for hers.

He never heard the shot. He did hear the small utterance of his name and then saw Marguerite slump helplessly to the ground. In two quick movements he picked her up and sped soundlessly out of the open ground. He didn't fear anything in those moments of lunacy; he only felt the quickening of his heartbeat, the slowing of hers. In minutes he had reached their waterfall, hoping to not be followed. He clamped down on his charge and jumped straight into the warm depths. Blood mixed with water as he dove into the falls. Gripping the hand supports with the strength of hundreds. Love quickens the blood; fear quickens the feet. They were up in the little crevice in moments; he settled her on the bed and checked her vitals.


	11. Chapter 11

She had been deadly silent the entire night, and Roxton was understandably worried. When she was silent, she was in protective mode. Her wound had been a through and through, although the damn thing almost pierced an artery in her upper thigh. She hadn't screamed, when she took neither the shot nor when Roxton seared her wound. She was alive, but introverted, as if the merest utterance of life could betray her. Marguerite could feel the anxiety, guilt and utter fear seeping of the form of her hunter. His hand never left hers, as he barely slept throughout the night. Her body was in shutdown, her world spinning out of control. She wanted to tell everything, and yet at the same time found no words to explain this tricky situation. The damn thing was just too far gone; too far out of her control.

She reluctantly opened one eye partially to survey her surroundings. She was covered head-to-toe in pelts, blankets, and Roxton. Somehow that man had surrounded her, without her knowing or feeling a thing. He was on the verge of sanity, if he lost her, just... He wouldn't lose her.

'If Cal-um never made it back, Xan would want to hurt me.' The heiress spoke out loud revealing her consciousness to the grateful hunter.

"And why is that Marguerite? The hunter questioned with an air of suspicion and condemnation in his voice.

Take his Oraborras and his right-hand man?" The heiress supported herself on her elbow while staring intently at Roxton. This was not a good situation, and they both knew it. Xan had the wrath of thousands and just enough expendable income to be dangerous. The man was a basic cornucopia of danger and deceit, that and the rudimental ties to the government that made him untouchable. They made an agreement then, to stay until she had recovered enough for travel, and then they would travel back to the lizard city.

Why Tribune?' the hunter asked as he passed his Marguerite a hunk of dried raptor over lunch.

'Even warlords must have their minions, John." The heiress continued, "And even lizards have a price"

An 'Hmmm' was all she would receive as an answer, but questions still resided in the poor bewildered hunter's mind. He would find them all out, if it killed him.


	12. Chapter 12

"Don't you think it's a touch too soon, Marguerite?"

I'm fine, don't worry about me. Like it said,"

You've had worse." The hunter interrupted.

Exactly. Now I'm all patched up and ready to go. You can't get a better offer than that."

How are we to keep that wound dry?"

Well, you'll just have to carry me, Lord Roxton." Marguerite replied with a wry smile and a slight smirk for her worrisome hunter.

It had been three days since she was shot. The first day he cauterised the wound, effectively returning the gruesome favour, then she sewed herself back up using a spare needle and thread. Ladies Home Journal would be proud. The second day Marguerite couldn't entirely remember since she was sleeping most of it. And the third she spent convincing Roxton that she was okay.

During her stint recuperating, the hunter had only left late at night to gather food and firewood. He never left her side otherwise. He was on a constant vigil that was irritating to say the least to Marguerite. He wore a mask of equal parts concern and utter curiosity. The latter part Marguerite required staying a while.

"Best you put that warrior outfit back on, Marguerite."

Oh really, John."

It's... It's for camouflage, I'll put back on my guard's uniform and re-entering should be a snap." the hunter replied rather hastily.

"Well then, you'd best be turning around."

The hunter's eye quirked as he obeyed and turned, allowing the heiress a moment's peace and privacy. He'd do anything to revive their banter. She had been silent on him for nearly four hours and it scared the hell out of him. Now they avoided the subject of just what to do once they re-entered the Lizard City like the plague. Roxton wasn't a curious sort, but he damned well wanted to know what could get him killed. He questioned her motives, if not her interrogation techniques. But he knew she wasn't ready to open up a portal to the past, and with her current health, he sure didn't push.

He strained to pick up her movements, and he was rewarded by scuffling and small moaning noises. He turned when the moans were laced with pain. She was dressed in the warrior outfit a pale blue dress and was struggling to reattach the black and purple lightweight armour.

Roxton let out a low whistle at the sight. When he inched further, checking her eyes to make sure they weren't deadly, or as deadly as they could be, he attempted to help her.

"Wouldn't be starting something you can't finish, John?"

Just being a gentleman, Marguerite. A Lady should never dress alone."

Marguerite scoffed," You said the same thing about bathing."

"And I was right about both."

The heiress rolled her eyes, as the hunters own eyes leered at her figure.

"Something you want?"

Roxton smiled at the seemingly familiar statement. But he wouldn't take the bait. His face fell when he eyed her injuries once more.

"What did they do to you?" he breathed out low and full of mixed anger and pain.

"I am fine, John. Really." Marguerite answered trying to reassure the hunter.

Don't you tell me 'All's fair in war' Marguerite. These things shouldn't happen to you, you don't deserve this."

It's not a question of deserving Roxton. It's a question of accepting."

What do you mean?" the hunter asked with a look of clear ignorance of his face.

"What do you think would have happened if I didn't take the rap? Huh? They'd have strung up Challenger or worse you. Challenger wouldn't have survived an hour, and I... I just couldn't have it any other way." The heiress replied with a hint of tension in her voice. Opening up wasn't her forte.

I'd have protected you, Marguerite."

I'd rather protect myself, John. Besides, its over and done with now isn't. You can take out the next crazy bastard that tortures me okay?"

Marguerite's voice cracked as she tried to alleviate the situation with a light-hearted joke, but failed as tears threatened to spill.

The hunter just adjusted her armour, rechecked her bandages, and kissed her softly on the forehead.

Any further conversation was killed instantly when they heard shouts from below.

"Roxton!! Marguerite?"

Cal-um?" Roxton inquired quietly as he fingered his rifle's trigger.

No, John. Challenger."

"We're up here, Challenger. There's sturdy rock holds leading up, Old Boy." Roxton shouted into the simmering roar of the waterfall.

They could hear his grumbling before they saw the peppery-red hair of the scientist.

"What a geological marvel. A dry crevasse sheltered by a waterfall. Wonderful!" Challenger exclaimed upon entering the small compartment.

"What are you doing here?" Marguerite asked as Roxton shot her a warning glance. They didn't need more causalities to worry about.

"My congratulations to you both, my dears. I don't want to intrude upon your little celebration, but I've got some rather exciting news of my own." Challenger answered in gleeful tone.

Congratulations?" Marguerite questioned the hunter, and was met by a rueful smile.

Why yes of course. Seems that Assai and Jarl are expecting. Due sometime in the dry seasons. We'd hope you might accompany us back home for the ensuing party of course."

That's lovely Challenger, and I'm sure we'll be happy to attend. Now what is this about "congratulations?" Marguerite said to Challenger, but she addressed Roxton.

On your wedding err elopement, of course. But shall we shift the conversation to where we are with our Lizard Brethren?"

Marguerite's eyes grew wide, and held a secret hint of pleasure. She drew beady arrows at her hunter with an eyebrow raised. He returned the glance with a wide-brimmed smile.

"Really nothing to worry about Challenger. Tribune merely sold us for information regarding gunpowder to a higher power. Thankfully we've all escaped, and been living the high life ever since." Marguerite flinched inwardly as Roxton lied to a faithful friend. She knew this would eat him alive. Deception was better left up to her sorts. She buried the entire conversation in her mind for later analysis.

Who's there with you, George?" Roxton said quietly as he heard commotion coming from outside of the crevasse.

"Oh, Assai was nice enough to lend some warriors for the trip. Can't be alone in the jungle for too long. I took the liberty of explaining all I could to Veronica and Ned. They seemed to take it well." Challenger replied.

"Yes, we all know Veronica's feelings about our lizard friend." Roxton said wryly. He admired Veronica's views on good and bad. Everything was black and white to her. Nothing seemed to blur.

Indeed. If I could take a look at that leg, Marguerite?" The scientist revealed a small first aid kit from his pack, and addressed the sitting Englishwoman.

Not that it'll do any good, but have at it George." Marguerite said with a slight hint of happiness in her voice.

Challenger had noticed the blood-soaked bandages in the corner of their small paradise, along with the crippling over-protectiveness exuding from John; Marguerite was bound to be injured. Challenger noticed that the hunter hadn't move from her side their entire conversation, and his riffle was cocked and ready. At the thought of intrusion, by Assai's warriors, Roxton had shifted to cover her. All and All, Marguerite was taking this well.

"You'll excuse my hands, Marguerite." Challenger said mainly to guard-dog Roxton, as he bent down to examine the injured woman. "Wonderful stitching John, you should do the mending from now on."

"She sewed it when I was sleeping. Damn woman never gave me a chance." Roxton replied to the bewildered scientist.

A sheepish grin escaped from the mask of Marguerite. She blocked out the pain the mere probing was delivering. She'd show no pain in front of her friends.

"Damned is right, Roxton." Marguerite uttered low, and arched an eyebrow. "Will I live, George?"

Oh, I'm quite sure of it, Marguerite. Quite the healer you are." The scientist replied in a jovial tone.

"She'll be just fine, John." Challenger said as he patted the younger man on the shoulder. "You've done a good job."

A brisk nod from the hunter was the only reply. After the warriors helped get Marguerite onto dry lands unscathed, the three friends said their goodbyes. Challenger needed to return to the tree house to attend to a rather pressing experiment. Years of experience told Marguerite that the elderly scientist had bought their ruse. She'd bet on it and indeed she would.

"Guess we've got a party to attend."

Just what was on that note, John?" Marguerite inquired with a deadly look to her eye.

"Wouldn't you like to know." The hunter answered back, a mirthful laugh framed his eyes as they walked hand in hand towards the Lizard City.


End file.
